Halcyon
by m0rghulis
Summary: Jaime Lannister finds solace in the last place he ever expected - in her electric blue eyes, and soul of the North. (Rated M for later content)


A/N : Hi everyone! This is a pairing that has been nagging me for a while to write about it, so here goes! Would love to know your thoughts and hear your feedback on whether to continue or not! Hope you all like it x

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Sansa Stark threw her auburn hair over her shoulder, sitting up on her bed. The first rays of morning light shone through the windows of her room, throwing angular beams across her face. She could hear the tapping on her door.

'_Lady Stark, are you awake?'_

'Yes,' she called back, keeping her tone casual and cool. She still wasn't over the beatings that the same guards who now wished her a pleasant morning or who called to her in light tones - had given her under Joffrey's command. It wasn't completely fair of her to judge them too harshly on that, she thought. Disregarding Joffrey's commands could lead to a very ugly scene.

But it had been two years. Joffrey was Margaery's problem now. Sansa stretched out, her toes curling. All she had to do was look pretty and fit the role of a lady at King's Landing. Even so, she was 'married' to the Imp, Tyrion Lannister. But the little man had seemed more caring and compassionate than she had imagined – compared to his scheming, sadist of a sister and his violent, malicious, murderer of a brother – Tyrion had allowed her to sleep in her own room and held her to no obligations of spending any more time with him than she wanted. That is, outside of festivities and occasions where they were bound to make appearances as man and wife.

It was not so bad anymore. But even as that thought crossed her mind, guilt washed over her, settling deep into her core, rattling her. Her father was dead, her mother was dead, her oldest brother was dead, her sister was missing, Jon Snow was living the worst kind of life at the Wall, and her two little brothers were probably suffering back home in whatever was left of Winterfell.

As she thought of Robb and her mother, a cruel flame licked through her, and Jaime Lannister's face crossed her mind. She crossed her legs beneath the sheets, resting an elbow on her knee, and her chin on her palm. He was beautiful, there was no doubt. Brilliant, electric eyes, shaggy blonde hair, a teasing, mischievous smile. Sansa once found him to be the most beautiful of all the knights. Ser Jaime was a man of legend – a man she and her friends would giggle about in their bedchambers at night. But now she knew that the mischievous smile had been worn as he sent his sword through innocent men, women and children – and those electric blue eyes had gazed upon the corpses of her mother and brother, with no remorse.

She got up, letting the sheets fall to the side. As she washed and combed out her hair, letting it tumble loosely over one shoulder, another thought rang through her. Tyrion, who had shown her more kindness and tenderness than anyone in King's Landing, loved his brother. He loved Jaime to his core, Sansa could tell. He held no love for his sister – but for Jaime, he would have done anything. How could someone with compassion love a murderer, but hate another murderer?

'I have grown up before my time,' she whispered, as she called in a lady-in-waiting to help her lace up a pea-green dress she had chosen for the day. 'I was meant to be courted by handsome knights and spend days laughing with my friends, crying for nothing more than a broken heart, playing with my little brothers, dining with my parents.. and here I am.'

'We must all grow up, my lady,' replied her lady-in-waiting, not unkindly. 'There. You look beautiful.'

'It's not done a lot of good for me thus far,' mumbled Sansa. Her lady-in-waiting held the door open for her, and the brightness of the hallway streamed into the room. Sansa squinted, as a dark haired guardsman extended his arm to her.

'To breakfast, my lady,' he said gruffly.

'Not today,' called a bright, cheery voice. 'I'll take her to breakfast today.'

'Ser Jaime,' the guardsman replied reverently, sinking into a half bow.

Jaime Lannister seemed to not notice, turning away from the guardsman, rather than acknowledging his bow. 'Fair morning, Sansa.'

He was wearing dark scarlet, which looked stunning against his fair skin and golden hair. He stood towering above her, a Lannister lion, gorgeous and dangerous, even with his sword hand now swapped for a golden replica.

Sansa resisted the urge to kick him. She was Lady Stark to him. Not Sansa. A highborn, full bred Stark. A Stark. However sour the name might taste in his mouth. But a lady's best armor was her courtesies.

'It is, Ser Jaime.'

He extended his arm.

Sansa couldn't bring herself to take it.

'Not a bad morning to walk on my own, Ser Jaime.'

Jaime looked taken aback, but the confusion in his face was smoothed out in a second.

'Truly, but as you know, you're meat for the wolves of King's Landing, so I would advise you come with me.'

The way he said '_wolves'_ seemed to be a jab at the Stark house. Sansa gritted her teeth. Any more refusal would be outright retaliation – and as much as Jaime loved Tyrion, Sansa didn't put it past him to have her beheaded at the snap of his fingers.. on his left hand, at least.

'As you wish, Ser.'

She put her hand on his. The tension between them was unbearable, but Jaime kept his face still and smooth. As they walked to the dining hall, Sansa felt like rolling her eyes as the women they passed all followed Jaime with their eyes.

He truly had every right to be a cocky asshole, she thought. And she truly had every right to hate him.


End file.
